


Addicted to love

by Ivartheboneme



Series: Ivar [9]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Biting, Blindfolds, Bondage, Exhibitionism, F/M, Hair-pulling, Implied biting, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Outdoor Sex, Public Display of Affection, Vaginal Fingering, sub!Ivar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-08 15:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11084709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivartheboneme/pseuds/Ivartheboneme
Summary: Here it is, my contribution to the Heathen Army Prompt over on tumblr. Inspiration came from Addicted to love by Florence and The Machine.Please note that for all of my works that have sexual content, all relevant characters are at least 18 years old. If they are not yet 18 in canon, I age them up.





	1. Chapter 1

He has always thought himself immune to these things. Well, at least since Margrethe. Then _she_ arrived. Björn had introduced her then, told everyone why she had come to Kattegatt. Ivar hadn't heard a word of it because he was too busy looking at her strange eyes. He couldn't decide which one he liked more; the one that reminded him of the ocean on a warm summer day or the one that reminded him of the moss growing on the trees surrounding the training ground. The first time she sat next to him in the great hall he realized just how little she was. A short, delicate frame that he could easily keep pinned under himself while making her squirm and cry out his name. The events of last night proved him wrong.

 

_He was awakened by the feeling of someone climbing into his bed. When he opened his eyes she sat there next to him; her eyes glowing in the candle light. Seeing her perched on top of his furs and dressed only in a nightgown made his heart quicken._

“ _Thinking about fucking me senseless?” He blinked, not sure if he had heard right in his state of half-asleep. He reached for her to see if she even was real. She pushed his hand away and before he could say anything about it she climbed on top of him. Ivar began to form a question but fell silent as he saw the scarf she held in her hands._

“ _Arms over your head.”_

 

There is a feast in the great hall and she looks like a goddess; two braids of her brown hair woven into a crown and a blue dress hugging her curves. Now that Ivar has seen them uncovered there are vivid images seared on his mind and the thought of them makes him squirm a little in his seat. When did it get so warm? If she sees his discomfort, she does not comment on it. Most people at the high table are still filling their plates with the first round of food when Ivar slides his hand over her thigh. She looks up at him, giving him a smile that makes his usually so sharp mind go numb. A shiver goes down his spine and his hand wanders further down her leg, bunching the fabric up in his fist. Her smile turns into a questioning look and he can see an edge appear in her eyes.

“I need you.” He pleads, barely bothering with keeping his voice down. She had slipped out of his bed before he woke up, stopping his plan to make her take him again in the morning. She eventually sent a servant out to shoo him away as he sat outside her room waiting for her to appear. Right now it is taking all his will-power not to free his erection and bring one of her delicate hands there; she would be so furious with him that she might even decide that punishing him couldn't wait until they were alone. Everyone would see, everyone would know; and somehow that only makes it better. Her face softens a little at the needy tone in his voice and she leans in to kiss him, allowing him to taste the fruit juice lingering on her lips. Just as he is about to beg for entrance she pulls back.

“Tell me, lítt buðlungr; what makes you think you can just demand to have me in front all these people? Have you forgotten your place?” Her voice is still gentle but he can see her pupils expand and swallow the blue and green of her irises. Heat rises through Ivar's body, his neck and cheek turning red at her words. He lifts a hand to wipe away the sweat that is forming at his brow. A feigned look of sympathy settles on her heart-shaped face.

“You look a little warm, Ivar. I can help you with that.” She grabs on to his vest and he leans a bit further forward to help her push it down from his shoulders, ignoring the stares coming from his brothers. She takes it from him and folds it neatly, then hangs it over the armrest of her chair. Next, she finds the strings of his tunic. Ivar whines as she pulls the top of it open, exposing most of his chest in the process; and with it, some of the marks she had left yesterday.

“What is that?” Hvitserk's voice cuts through the heavy air. He's pointing to one of the largest bruises. A jovial grin lights up Ivar's face.

“I misbehaved.” He says, almost proudly. The mark in question was the result of him trying to capture one of her nipples in his mouth when she leaned down to smooth his hair back. Sharp fingernails dig into the back of his hand. Ivar flicks his eyes there and realizes that his hand has once more wandered to her thigh. She lets out a deep sigh and digs her nails even further into his skin.

“And it seems you haven't learned your lesson.”

 

He pulls himself up next to her on the bed and again he reaches for her. She clicks her tongue in disapproval, making his arms fall back to his sides. She gestures at the braids.

“Help me.” He moves a little closer and sets to completing his task while taking great care to not pull at her hair. Ivar runs his hands through her long dark curls; just a little lighter than his own thick mop. He shifts awkwardly at the bed, trying to find the position that will offer most space for his now almost painful erection. Once it had become obvious that she wasn't going to rush through the meal on account of taking him to bed, he tried to sneak away so that he could give himself some release. He didn't get far; the second he moved she turned to him and threatened to never touch him again if he didn't stay in his seat and enjoy the feast. So he did; hands trembling as he forced down some of the food as a way to distract himself. Ivar is so lost in his thoughts that she has to tell him twice before he stops to take his tunic off. There's not a doubt in his mind that his lack of attention to her orders will come back to bite him in the ass; perhaps literally. While he pulls the tunic over her head he can hear her opening a drawer. Ivar turns to look at her. Her tongue pokes out of her mouth and she drags it along her bottom lip while taking in the sight of his naked chest. He sees the bunched up fabric in her hands and immediately holds his arms out. She raises an eyebrow, eyes glittering with amusement.

“I see you enjoyed last night. Sit against the headboard.” Ivar eagerly complies, wondering what new ordeals she will put him through. As soon as he's settled down she straddles him and grabs his right arm. She guides it to the end of the headboard and secures it there with the help of the same scarf she used yesterday. He catches on to what is happening and stretches his left arm toward the other side.

“Such a good lítt buðlungr.” She coos while picking up another scarf and sliding it over his wrist. He smirks then and bucks his hips up so that she can feel the bulge through his pants. Her hand goes to his hair, grabbing a fistful of it at his neck and forcing his head backwards. The sudden pain makes a loud moan escape from his throat.

“You know, I was going to wait with this.” She wiggles a third scarf in front of him. Ivar's mind begins to race, wondering what she will do with this one. He doesn't have to wait for long. She moves to cover his eyes with it and he quickly turns his head away; he hasn't gotten to see her undress yet.

“Ivar.” She says softly, calling for his attention, but he pouts and continues to look away. He feels her fingers wrap around his chin and then her lips are on his. This time she allows the kiss to deepen and every last drop of Ivar's resistance melts away as they taste the mead on each other. When they finally pull apart Ivar is on the verge of tears, his entire being screaming for him to find some release. So he closes his eyes and nods. She secures the blindfold with a knot at the back of his head, then places a kiss on his cheek.

“My lítt buðlungr; just a kiss and you'd do anything for me.” Ivar only whimpers in response, not capable of denying the truth of her statement. The mattress shifts as she moves away from him and he hears the rustle of fabric as she undresses. Then she's back, straddling him again and leaning in so close that he can feel her breath fan against his forehead. Her hands slide down his chest and stomach, finally arriving at the lacing of his pants. She begins to unlace them and Ivar sighs in relief.

“Now” She purrs while freeing his cock “What do we have here?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2; because there's not enough sub!Ivar in this world! :D

Ivar rests his head on her stomach, eyes closed as he basks in the sensation of her fingers dragging over his scalp. He waits anxiously for her to respond to his request. She finally breaks the silence.

”You want everyone to see?”

”Yes.” He breathes and nuzzles lightly against her stomach. There's another long stretch of silence as she continues to mull over his suggestion. Ivar's cheeks start to burn with humiliation but just as he is about to say that it was a stupid idea anyway she nudges at him to make him move. He lies on his side and looks up at her with pleading eyes. The woman slides further down in the bed so that their heads are level with each other and she places a small hand at the back of his neck, keeping him in place as she leans in to kiss him. He can taste the exotically spiced meat they had eaten at dinner, a gift to the royal family from her merchant father. He wants to stay like this but as always she breaks away, though she lets one hand linger in his hair. With her free fingers she points to the space between her legs and Ivar motions to settle between them. She stops him and tilts his chin up so that he is looking directly at her.

”If you do a good job, I will make sure that everyone knows you can satisfy a woman.” He can't keep himself from whimpering then. She reaches down to pet his hair as he repositions.

“Ssh, lítt buðlungr. You know what to do.” Ivar lifts her left leg over his shoulder and begins to kiss his way up the inside of it. When the first moan escapes into the air Ivar smiles against her warm skin and his kisses grow a little bolder as he continues making his way toward her core. He reaches her sex and presses a quick kiss to the folds before sticking his tongue out and dragging it from bottom to top, tasting the wetness that he has inspired; something that he will never grow tired of thinking about. Her hips buck a little then and she purrs at him.

“See? Minn lítt buðlungr knows how to take care of me.” That is all the reassurance Ivar needs and he briefly retracts his mouth to work his pointer and index finger between the slick folds. This time her hips buck more forcefully and she gasps as his fingers become fully sheathed. He lifts his head slightly to look at her, admiring the redness that is creeping over her skin. However,she doesn't approve of him wasting time and he yelps in pain as she forces his head backwards. Ivar writhes in her grip; he can feel the way his cock is throbbing and begging to be released. He knows that she won't allow it until he has taken care of her, so he lowers his gaze again and she releases him. With his scalp still stinging from her rough treatment, Ivar dips his head back down between her thighs and locates the little bud that she had introduced him to on their second night together. He takes it between his lips and sucks at it carefully, listening to her moans and feeling the way her hips roll to meet the movements of his digits. She begins to arch on top of the furs and Ivar presses his tongue to the bud. As he lets his tongue draw circles around it she stiffens under him and cries out, squeezing his head tightly between her thighs. Ivar stays still, even though he could easily break free, slowing his fingers but still sucking at the sensitive flesh until she relaxes again. She releases him and he props himself up on one elbow, watching her every movement with hungry eyes. She motions for him to lie down next to her and so he does. His goddess swiftly wipes his face clean then brings him in for a passionate kiss. While Ivar latches on for dear life her small fingers begin to trail down his naked stomach. She cups him through his trousers, making him groan into her mouth. She shifts her face a little then, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth instead.

“We will show them.” Ivar sobs in relief and he starts to form a thank you but she slips away from him. She dresses quickly, combs through her tousled curls with her fingers and gestures for him to follow her.

”Come.” Ivar nearly falls in his eagerness to put his tunic and shoes on and once done he crawls behind her out of his room. At first, he thinks she will lead him to the thrones in the main room of the great hall but she continues right past them and out through the double doors. It is nearly dawn and Kattegatt is quiet, save for the noises of animals in their pens. She begins to walk through the town, making her way to the centre. Suddenly, she stops.

“Here.” Ivar's heart threatens to break out of his chest. They are right in front of the pole that is used to display and shame criminals. She crouches next to him and guides his hand to the scarf around her neck.

“Don't be nervous, lítt buðlungr. I won't use the chains on you, only this.” Ivar slowly blinks to clear away the shock, then nods in agreement. His movements feel sluggish as he crawls to the pole and settles with his back against it and for a moment he fears that this is just some cruel dream that he will wake from. He calms down again as he realizes that it at least would be the best dream he's ever had. She kneels next to him and smiles that same devilish smile as their first night together.

“Arms above your head.” While she ties him to the pole Ivar leans in to sniff at her neck. There's that familiar, faint smell of some lilac flower whose name he can't remember and, in a layer over it, the smell of sweat after their coupling. He can't help but smile sheepishly and when she notices she giggles a little at him.

“Has your mind gone soft, lítt buðlungr?”

“If it has, it is all your fault.” He responds in a surprisingly warm tone. Her eyes widen a little in surprise but she's quick to recover.

“It seems as if the boy is infatuated.” She murmurs while straddling him. They take their time getting ready. At first she just opens his tunic and feels at his chest, sharing small kisses from time to time. As they can hear the faint sounds of doors and footsteps in the outskirts of the centre she reaches down to open his trousers.

“I will claim you in front of the entire fucking town, Ivar.” She purrs while freeing his cock. Just as she hikes her dress up, the first drops of rain fall. Neither of them pay much attention to it. She sinks down and Ivar smacks his head against the wooden pole as he feels her walls around his length. Once he is fully sheathed inside her, she stops for a moment to press her nose to his.

“Here they come.” She rasps as she begins to move on top of him. Ivar moans in response and begins to move with her, determined to find a good pace before people spot them. She throws her head back and groans loud enough for the entire town to hear. The rain has already grown much heavier and the ground is turning to mud which begins to cover their lower bodies as they move together. There's a loud screech and they both turn their heads in the direction of it. A group of merchants along with some of their slaves have entered the centre and they are staring at the young couple with some mix of shock, horror and fascination. The lovers find each others eyes again and she smiles at him before grinding down even harder on him. The screams have attracted more people and when Ivar spares a glance over her shoulder he can see his brothers standing at the dais where father had sat when passing judgement on the criminals, only now there is envy in their eyes rather than contempt; none of their women have been bold enough to claim them like this. A sharp bite to his neck makes him grunt in pain; she has noticed his gaze wandering and is upset with him.

“Don't come before me.” She warns and he immediately lowers his eyes. The force of her bouncing on his cock sends the mud splashing and Ivar has to force away the thought of bathing with her so that he won't spill first. She begins to stiffen on top of him and her hands move from his shoulders to cup his face instead. She slams down on him with all her strength and cries out.

“Ivar!” She wails and the sound of it makes him follow her; he shoots his hips up and spills his seed. Ivar sinks back against the pole, eyelids heavy from exhaustion in spite of the thrill that is running through his body. She reaches her hands up and unties him. Ivar lets his arms fall back to his sides, chest still heaving from the strain. She leans in closer, lays her head to rest on his shoulder and pulls at her cloak to cover as much as possible of him too.

“There, lítt buðlungr. Now everyone knows that your pretty cock belongs to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lítt buðlungr - Little prince


End file.
